Deadly Enchantment
by TenshiNoAkuma
Summary: When a wizard pushes himself too far, there is only one place he'll end up. And in that one place, there is nothing to do, nowhere to go...except down...
1. Falling

Author's Notes: I really have to stop starting new stories, but ideas keep on coming! D: I'm sorry! D: I was having trouble writing a fight scene for the next chapter of _Things Unforgotten_, would you believe it? Me, having trouble writing a fight scene? D: I think it's because Lorianne fights in a completely different style and weapon from what I'm used to. D:

This is also the first time I'm writing something without a prologue and epilogue, although this is so short it almost is a prologue. D: This is still related to _Woosh!_ since some of the characters here will be appearing later on, although this is a good thirty years earlier. _Deadly Enchantment _builds on the idea of a Magic Stream in the RO world. Any comments and/or critique on it are welcome.

This is dedicated to Skye Mihalak, whose latest one shot, _Unlucky Days_, inspired me to write this (Yeah, you're right about the whole rogue thing…but…/sob :S Wizards are so cute though:D) and Tom Valor, whose Crimson Twilight Trilogy was the main motivation for this first chapter. (Is there anything of mine he _hasn't_ inspired in some way:S )

Disclaimer: Ragnarok Online don't belong to me, but the characters do. And I wish they didn't hate me so much…Damn you Trian! You busted by leg/an

--

Ragnarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Chapter 1 – Falling

--

Inside, outside,

All around.

Left, right,

Just behind.

Over, under,

Don't fall in.

--

"First Blacksmith Division, fall back! Third Wizard Division, ready your spells! Don't let them through!"

Trian gripped his staff tighter, the beady eyes of the carved dragon seeming to gleam with amusement at his own anxiety. The council had pulled as many able bodied fighters as possible to the north, west and south gates, but Trian felt uneasy at their decision. Although most of the attacks were coming from those areas, they were leaving the east side of Geffen open to attack. The walled capital, Prontera, had already been informed of the combination orcish, kobold and goblin assault on the magic city. However, it would take time for the Pronteran Knight and Priest Divisions to make it to Geffen. It was time the Geffenese could ill afford. Any time now, the orcs could break through their meagre defences…

"We need an ice wall near the south bank! Stop those archers from sniping us!"

There were so many of the humanoids…far too many. Centuries of repression from the Geffen people had made them lust for the destruction of the humans' home, but they never attacked. Finally, they finally mustered the courage and numbers to attack the city. They managed to see past millennia of their own suspicion of each other to band together, making a huge army. Despite their large numbers, their well known commanders, Orc Hero, Orc Lord, Goblin Leader, Panzer Goblin, Werewolf and Kobold Leader were nowhere in sight. But even without their usual leaders, the legion of attacking demi-humans wouldn't stop until Geffen was burnt to the ground…

Trian was still recovering from the last barrage of spells he had released, as were several other wizards. It was a break they could ill afford to have, but they all knew that they would be useless if they didn't do so. Death screams of both human and non-human filled their air, their cries grinding on his already frayed nerves. Trian wished he could block out the sounds but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. He wished that it would all just stop. He just wanted all the screams…everything…to stop. He had never seen so much death before and he didn't like it at all. He just wanted the demi-humans to go away and leave them all alone.

In that back of his mind, he was thankful that his friend, Tyler, was not in Geffen. His ex-classmate in the magic academy in Yuno chose to remain to further his studies as a sage. He wished he was there himself, to watch the magic demonstrations the floating city of wisdom had every week. Sometimes, if they were lucky, a bard, or even a bard-dancer ensemble, would drop by. The really, really good ones created their own brand of magic through their songs and dance, although their magic was mostly not meant for use in battle. When the bards came to Yuno to sing about the ancient gods, it was one of the rare times he could see Tyler smile. Not just do that wry, twitch the corner of his mouth upward thing he did, but a _true_ smile. He was glad that his friend wasn't caught up in a battle for his life…

Trian clapped his hands together and murmured a quiet chant, drawing from the power of God to bestow minor blessings on the people further in front of him. As the only person in the area that had any training in acolyte spells, he was on support duty as well as using his usual elemental spells. However, Trian simply did not have the devotion of priests, and at the very best, could only heal minor wounds. He himself was amazed he could still heal and bless, despite his beliefs lying in the Magic Stream rather than in God. For most, it would be impossible to draw from the opposing forms of magic.

The wizard was starting to feel sick from using the horribly clashing opposing magics, making him feel like his insides were sloshing around inside a glass bottle. Nevertheless, he began chanting again, closing his eyes and concentrating on 'seeing' the immense Magic Stream. It felt like an eternity in which he floundered in the black darkness in between before he finally felt the power of the Stream. Opening his eyes, he let the piece of borrowed magic manifest itself as gusts of freezing wind. The blizzard quickly turned the archers in the back lines into icicles, effectively immobilising them. Trian staggered back, dropping to his knees as a wave of vertigo hit him like a punch to the gut. He managed to see flashes of lightning, no doubt from the less experienced magicians, strike the frozen orcs through his blurring vision. It was a common tactic; freeze the enemy before shattering them with a well placed bolt of lightning. But Geffen was going to need much, much more than that to save them. Several more screams punctured the air as the remaining archers quickly began to target the magicians who did not duck back behind cover quickly enough. Trian winced. He didn't even have the strength to cast the fog-like barrier that would have saved their lives. For a moment, he almost wished he had continued his studies as an acolyte. If he had been a priest instead of a wizard…

Trian slowly let his eyes droop shut, taking slow, steady breaths to relieve some of his exhaustion. There was no time to think about past decisions now. He was tired beyond belief, almost a walking corpse. Never before had he cast so many spells in succession and it was taking a tremendous toll on his endurance. He briefly wondered how many more spells he could cast before he simply couldn't any more…

His heart plummeted as he heard the cry, "They've broken through! Second Blacksmith Division, rally to me!" Shouts of "Rally!" filled the thick air as the division attempted to regroup itself amidst the sounds of the dying.

Trian reluctantly dragged his heavy eyelids open again, unsteadily getting to his feet. He must look such a sorry state right now. His white shirt had untucked itself during the battles and had all sorts of dirty smudges on it. His thin gloves were starting to get worn on the tips from having to heave himself back onto his feet every ten minutes. He was sure his hair was a mess, especially since the band that usually held it in its loose ponytail had long since slipped out. The strands of hair blew over his face and obscured his vision, in general irritating him. Dirty, tattered and most of all, burnt when the initial barrage of fire arrows lit it on fire, his cloak flapped uselessly behind him. Trian had never been so dishevelled in his life. There were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't been sleeping for days…

"They're coming in through the East Gate!"

Eyes widening as fear suddenly gripped him with its long claws, Trian turned to see a young magician running towards him. Only to see, to his horror, the child struck down by a white fletched arrow. The nightmare he had imagined from the beginning was unfolding before his eyes. There were scores and scores of orcs, goblins and kobolds cutting a swathe through the pitifully small defences, torching houses as they went. The defenders couldn't afford to be caught in the middle of all the immense armies of the demi-humans! They had to be stopped…somehow! Trian began chanting again, shaking off his exhaustion, his mind amazingly clear and easy to focus. There was no way he was going to let them get close…he couldn't afford to let them get through…

An ice wall sprung up ahead of him, blocking the path of the attackers. Almost immediately, Trian launched into another chant, calling on the spell originally devised by the first magician centuries ago. He barely glimpsed the Stream before he conjured several tornados, their angry red colour taking after its namesake. They whirled, sucking not only screaming goblins and kobolds into its hungry grasp high in the air, but also some of Geffen's grey-blue pavement! Then, suddenly the tornados stopped their spinning, becoming a bright red pillar of light as the goblins and kobolds we hurled back to the ground. Those that weren't killed on impact soon saw the Grim Reaper when the Geffen pavement smashed into their faces. The bricks even managed to crack through the intricate masks of the goblins and the horned helms of the orcs that protected them from ordinary attacks.

Some of the orcs that managed to make it unscathed through the spell began to make a hole through Trian's immense ice wall. Again, he hardly had the chance to fully see the Stream before he released a globe of crackling electricity at the orcs as they pulled themselves through the hole they had created. He couldn't help but notice that dark blotches were forming at the edge of his vision while he conjured another ice wall. Battling dizziness, he tried to refocus his mind through the cries of the orcs as their flesh burned under the intensity of the spell. Hesitating for a split second, he launched into another chant. He had no choice; he _needed_ to cast this spell. He didn't want more people to die…

He unconsciously translated the strange language of magic in his mind as he chanted, his mind focused on the immense task he had assigned himself. Time was racing against him. Any moment now his Jupitel Thunder would wear out…any moment hordes of orcs, goblins and kobolds would break through his second ice wall and come charging through…burying their weapons into his body before moving on to slaughter everyone else…

The Stream welcomed him with open arms, its all encompassing aura flickering tantalisingly. He could almost hear a song…a song that he had heard many times in Yuno. The magical poem of Bragi, the patron of all poets…it was almost enough for any mage to close their eyes and sink into the depths of the Stream just to keep on hearing that beautiful song. But he had to resist the temptation. The dangers of falling in…his instructor when he was a mere magician had drilled into his mind the importance of not descending into the Stream. Those who did…he didn't even want to think about it…

It was an effort to tear his mind away from the Magic Stream. It was an effort to focus on taking what he needed to defeat his enemies. For a moment, he almost blacked out, stumbling forward a few steps before sinking to his knees as the strain he was putting on himself began to rear its ugly head. But he couldn't stop…not now…not while the threat still remained…

Trian refocused his mind, starting his chant again even as he felt his fingertips scrape against the pavement. His throat was parched and his dry lips were having difficulty forming the proper syllables, but he ploughed on, hearing the orcs chipping away at his wall. It was a matter of life or death…_"You've wandered the starry skies infinitely, you've been there since the beginning of time. Always circling…Eternal, I beg you with all my heart, grant me power to rain destruction to purge us of our invaders. I call upon you, Great Eternal… Meteor Shower!"_

Huge, fiery boulders hurtled towards the orcish army, crushing them in their dozens. Scores of the green skinned humanoids were decimated by the barrage, causing panic in the goblins and kobolds, who looked up to the orcs as their pillar of strength. They all scattered, but Trian knew the moment of chaos wouldn't last very long. He needed to cast another spell…any spell…anything that would keep them busy until more help came…

While he began to chant again, he could hear shouts, but it was like he was hearing them from underwater. The words were blurry and undecipherable. Shaking off the distraction, he found the welcoming glow of the Magic Stream. Yet…in a blink of an eye, it was all gone. He couldn't feel anything…there was a great serpent, a serpent he hadn't seen since the time when he was an acolyte…and then he was spiralling into bleak darkness…

--

Author Notes: I'm not sure if I quite portrayed the spells right, since I haven't played a wizard yet. Also, I've always thought that Lord of Vermillion is a fire spell, until someone showed me that it wasn't. /sob That made a few complications to the writing…/swt I was having a look see at the bard song names, and I found a pretty interesting site on mythology in general. There were quite a few things I didn't know about Norse mythology. I always wondered why Song of Lutie (i.e. Apple of Idun) had golden apples…Niflheim (the World of the Dead) seems to be one of the 9 worlds, and in some myths, Hel and Niflheim can be considered as one.

I seriously have to write a story with a bard. I play my bard, GateCrahser (go the DS dancer!) the most, yet I don't have any stories dedicated to him. D: This went through some editing after reading this great book on improving writing. :D I think this version is much better than the first one. XD


	2. Lost

Author Notes: It's suddenly so hooooot! D: Dammit, the only way to stop myself from getting more ideas for stories is to kill off all parents and make the characters orphans. D: Seriously, I've been resisting the urge to write a Rosa, Aleran, Xildali story. D: Ugh…

Disclaimer: I no own RO. But I pwz the seals. /gg REVENGE!

--

Rangarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Chapter 2 – Lost

--

Wander, wander,

Stay a while.

Keep on walking,

Stop a moment.

Where are we now?

--

"Victory for Geffen! The threat is no more!"

It was a cry that did little to alleviate the heavy hearts of the Geffenese. Building smoked and there were still several fires that needed to be put out. Rubble was strewn everywhere, as if a giant Baphomet had stormed through, stomping on all the buildings as it passed. There were hundreds of the dead to bury and everyone still alive had some sort of injury. The divisions of Pronteran troops were accompanied by three priest divisions which moved along the ranks of the injured, healing as they went. But even the renowned Pronteran priests couldn't mend lost limbs. Many blacksmiths were missing an arm, and some of the unlucky were missing more. Most of them would not be able to return to their livelihoods of forging weapons and armour. Even larger than the number of blacksmith fatalities was number of wizards that had died, having been targeted mostly by archers. Several looked like human pincushions from the number of arrows that struck them, though a few unfortunates had been cloven in two from orc warriors. Even after the rout, there were still moans of agony as the severely wounded writhed in pain. Every able bodied person, whether they had healing abilities or not, pitched in to help out. There was a lot that needed to be done to restore Geffen…

Rosa Lizray fingered the rosary around her neck, idly casting an eye over the scene before turning to her current patient. It was a female wizard, and like many other surviving magicians, had arrows sticking out of her. Most of the quarrels were buried in her arms and legs, but another shaft punctured her side. She was one of the lucky that had not been shot in a fatal area. The injured woman waited patiently for the priestess despite her injuries, not wanting to aggravate her wounds further by moving.

There was something that had been bugging Rosa at the back of her mind for quite some time now. Seating herself beside the wizard, she began to snap the fletched ends of the arrows off. "How was the East Gate defended?" she asked the mage, pulling the arrow shafts through and healing the wounds left behind. "The message that we received was that there weren't enough people to defend the east. Yet it's clear _something_ stopped the orcs."

The wizard bit her lip to contain the sharp pain of the arrows being yanked out of her arms. "There was someone…a wizard…but the cost…he shouldn't have…"

The priestess raised an eyebrow as she healed the wounds left behind. "What? What happened?"

Looking away as the arrow was pulled out of her side, the wizard whispered, "It's something no wizard would want to happen to them."

Rosa forced down her rising irritation at the wizard's indirectness. She mentally repeated in her mind that she should be patient like all 'good' priestesses. Trying to be gentle but assertive at the same time, Rosa gripped the mage tightly by the shoulders. "Tell me…what happened?"

There was a long pause before the wizard spoke again. "…He lost himself in the Stream…"

The priestess frowned. She remembered a certain someone rambling on about this Magic Stream thing.

"_The Magic Stream…it's something…beautiful…I can't really describe it. It's ethereal and almost unreal. If it was tangible and I tried to touch it, I think my hand would go right through. But I'd still feel…_something_ there…Most of the time you just 'feel' the Stream. It's a…presence, something that feels like someone you love wrapping their arms around you…"_

Well, that didn't sound nearly as horrible as the reply she was expecting. It sounded almost like the blissful happiness people got in heaven or something. She said as much to the wizard.

"You don't understand!" the wizard snapped back, a light flaring in her previously dejected eyes. "He pushed himself so far he lost himself in the Stream, and when people do that, they don't come back! Their minds become slush!"

Well, _this_ she could understand. Wizards were known to value quickness of mind very highly. She herself had met a few mentally insane people, and they generally weren't too bad, once you got used to them. But still, there was still something that told her something was very wrong… "Can you tell me the name of the wizard? Or at least describe what he looked like?" she asked.

The wizard's lip curled up into a sad smile. "Yes…I know him…" she mumbled, her hands shaking as she clenched her fists. "Trian…You idiot!" she cried, before running away, wiping her eyes as she ran.

The priestess mentally reeled back a few steps. Trian…? No…Not him! It couldn't be possible!

She grabbed the nearest fully healed wizard by the shirt and hefted him up with one arm. "Take me to the wizard who held the East Gate alone," she growled, narrowing her eyes dangerously. Something in her expression made the wizard feel like he was facing a highly temperamental Kaho. "No buts! I want to see my son!"

--

Trian looked around to see if he could spot something, but he should have known better. He was surrounded by darkness, and had been surrounded by it for…a long time. There wasn't anything interesting to focus on, not even a tiny speck of light. Beside him floated his staff, the dragon's eyes dulled, having no light to allow them to shine. Trian reached out to take hold of the cool white metal, taking some comfort that he still had his staff. It was a valuable gift from his mentor, and he was never seen without it.

He closed his eyes. Where was he? The last thing he could remember was casting Meteor Shower on the demi-humans…What time was it? How long had he been here, floating in blackness?

Abruptly, he opened his eyes.

…Was he dead?

The moment that thought entered his head, the blackness exploded with brilliant light. Bringing his arms up to shield his face, Trian suddenly found himself standing on a grassy hill overlooking a calm lake nearby. Rows upon rows of flowers were spread across the ground like a blanket. Bird circled up above in the sky, their cries filling the silence with sound. Aside from the fact this didn't look like anywhere he'd been on Rune-Midgard, everything looked somewhat normal, yet…he felt uncomfortable, like there was something off about the place. Something was missing…He couldn't quite put his finger on it…

"_How does the world look without red? Better or worse?"_

Immediately, Trian whirled around, bringing his staff up defensively. A ghostly apparition stood beside him with a wistful smile on his face. The ghost seemed…friendly, to say the least. Trian lowered his staff. He pondered on the spectre's words for a few moments before he cast his gaze over at the scenery again. Now that he thought about it, everything seemed a little…colder…in colour. The flowers blooming on the hill didn't seem as vibrant as they should be. There weren't any orange flowers…or purple ones…It was like he wasn't seeing red…

"It's just not as colourful. It's not as lively as it should look," Trian replied, flicking a stray strand of his pale hair out of his face. "Nothing here seems…alive."

The spirit grinned widely at his answer. _"For us mages, this place is like Rune-Midgard without magic. Seeing red is not absolutely necessary, but having lived with it most our lives, if you were to suddenly remove red from our vision, everything would seem less vibrant…less _alive_. The same applies to magic for us. You take away our magic, the world simply isn't the same to us anymore."_

Snapping his fingers, the phantom restored the colour to the world. Now that the scenery was back to normal, Trian felt more at ease. Even the ghost himself seemed to take a more solid form, dressing in a modest scarlet garb that somehow lessened the violent colour of his orange-red hair. An overly large feathered hat was perched jauntily on his head. The three feathers attached to the hat looked like they were about to fall off any moment from their hugeness.

"_I like red,"_ the ghost said cheerfully, letting a tiny bird alight on his outstretched hand._ "Red has always been my favourite colour. It symbolises so many different things. However, I was an entertainer; back then, magicians never existed until I came along. I never thought I'd become eternally glorified through a spell I made long ago. 'Big Red' they called it, but I believe they've given it a more fanciful name now."_

Trian's eyes widened as his mind began to put together the pieces of the fragmented puzzle to who this ghost was. There were many, many books dedicated to ancient wizards who had advanced the art of magic, but Trian had really never been much of a book person. He personally preferred to be out there doing magic rather than reading about past history. However, there were some times where he had no choice but to research as part of his wizard exams. And what he learnt, he usually didn't forget…

"_It was meant to be a flashy spell to please the crowds, not one that would cause mass destruction. But I suppose times were dire, and Jupitel was always a quick thinker. If my memory serves me correctly, he was the first one to adapt magic for battle. I'm sure you're familiar with my spell, no? You've used it recently, I recall. I believe they call my spell 'Lord of Vermillion' in your time…"_

He wanted to speak! He wanted to speak to the man who discovered magic, but no sound would come from his mouth. There were so many things he wanted to say, to ask him, but it was like that time when his mother had silenced him with a Lex Divina. The apparition seemed to notice his predicament, nodding before giving Trian a hollow smile. _"You're not meant to be here, wizard,"_ he said quietly, although his soft voice seemed to encompass the entire area. _"You're not meant to be here at all. It's been a long time since I've seen another walk this place and had some other company. In this place, you don't have a choice in where you go…"_

The world seemed to fade away, even as Trian vainly tried to keep a hold on it. Darkness blotted his vision once more as he felt the ground give way beneath him. He falling again…falling to nowhere…

"_Good luck, wizard. You'll be needing it if you wish to leave…"_

--

"How was it that _my_ son was caught up guarding the East Gate _alone_?"

Rosa was on the verge of tears, and as a result, she was angry. Already a few wizards were cowering in the corners of the room, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible while they nursed extra injuries. Currently the vengeful priestess was holding up an unlucky magician up against the wall by his throat. He choked as he struggled to breathe through her incredibly strong grip. There was a reason why the Church allowed Battle Priests, priests who were well versed in self-defence, to travel solo…

"He saved us all, Lizray," another wizard spoke up softly. She turned to regard him. She thought she recognised him; he was Trian's instructor a few years back, among other things…"Your craft is dedicated to saving lives, correct? You should be proud of him. He bought us desperately needed time. He gave us our lives."

Her shoulders sagged, as if suddenly the weight of the world had been dropped on her. Sensing that she was calming down slightly, the wizard said gently, "Let him go, Rosa. There's no point in taking your anger out on an innocent."

With a heavy sigh, Rosa loosened her grip on the magician, letting him slide down against the wall. He gasped for air, massaging his bruised throat before he scuttled, terrified, out of the room. "Go on, get out!" she heard her old wizard friend say to the other wizards. "I'll handle this."

The moment the others left, Rosa collapsed to her knees. "But why? Why Trian?" she whispered. She stole a glance at her son. "…Why…?"

Trian was seated on a chair, but anyone could tell he was not himself. Rocking in his spot, his eyes had a glazed quality about them and seemed to be opened far too wide as he stared up at the ceiling. Every now and again, an arm would spasm and his fingers constantly twitched with the desire to fiddle with something. With a too-wide grin, he song nonsense rhymes in a voice pitched higher than normal. He couldn't keep still and his childish smile he had plastered on his face disturbed her to no end. His voice slid off pitch as he softly sang a short little ditty about red seas. Where had he learnt it? He never travelled by sea if he could help it…

"I suggest you go back outside, Lizray. There are people that need your help."

Swallowing with some difficulty, Rosa wiped her eyes and nodded before getting shakily to her feet. "You're right, of course, Xildali," she said, smiling through her unshed tears. "These people need me. But I'll be back tomorrow. I want to discuss where he'll be staying while he is…"

The wizard put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, dropping the formal tone he held previously. He resisted the urge to take her into his arms; it was not his place to do so. He had lost that chance long ago. "I know it's hard on you, and Aleran when he gets here, but don't lose hope, Rosa." He sighed wearily, trying to ignore the ache in his heart as he tried to comfort her.

"You should be telling yourself that, Xil," she whispered, staring into his eyes. "I _know_ you're more worried than you're letting on. After all, you have a clearer picture on what's going on, and he's your son as much as ours…"

He flinched at the painful reminder of forty years ago. The memories of dreams realised, guilt, love untold and a painful ache in his heart assaulted him. That time was the beginning of greater complications in his life. Sometimes he wondered if Aleran or Rosa blamed him for Trian's unwillingness to embrace God. Wanting to leave those memories behind, he abruptly changed the subject. "I'll be helping with the rebuilding efforts tomorrow. I'm afraid he will no longer be under my authority."

"I…see…"

"I am sorry, Rosa," he mumbled apologetically. "I tried what I could, but I…lost favour with the council a while back. They will be the ones overseeing Trian…and unfortunately, they are the ones you will have to talk to." It was another of his pathetic failures.

She pulled a hand over her face in despair. Ugh…that just made her day worse that it already was. Still, it was a problem she could tackle tomorrow, when she had gotten some sleep and didn't feel like there was a skeleton worker hitting her over the head with its pick.

"…Thank you, Xildali. I'll…I'll be going now…"

The wizard watched her stagger out of the room with a slightly mournful smile on his face. She was strong…she'd make it through this ordeal. With a sigh, he lightly took hold of Trian's light coloured hair and tied it back into its usual long tail. The wizard himself didn't seem to notice what Xildali was doing, instead muttering, "Big? Red? Giant red!" over and over again. Xildali sighed, leaning on the back of the chair. He didn't hold much hope for the recovery of Trian, but he'd try his best to make sure Rosa's candle of hope didn't snuff out. He'd hate to see her spark of life fade away like her son was. She may not be his, but that didn't mean that he still didn't care for her…

--

Author Notes: This chapter still feels a bit short. /hmm The next one should be a bit longer. :D I love the musicians at this website: www(dot)ctgmusic(dot)com. The music is free, perfectly legal to download, and if you find the right artists, you get some really top notch stuff. :D Some of the songs I have create the best atmosphere ever for writing.

Comments and critique welcome.


	3. Desert Charms

Author Notes: Edit: Heavily edited, along with the previous chapters. There are some important things I forgot to put in initially. Also, I felt that the last time I wrote this chapter, it had no relevance. Now that I have more thoughts on the direction this should take, I've redone this chapter, although it still has some…unneeded content.

Edit: (swears) I accidentally left all my notes at the end of the chapter. Hopefully, for those who have seen it, it didn't give you many hints on what happens later...

Disclaimer: Ragnarok Online doesn't belong to me and today's poem thing doesn't either. It was a song I learnt in Music class a while back. Last disclaimer, because I'm lazy.

--

Ragnarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Chapter 3 – Desert Charms

--

All sing in praise of the camel,

That most industrious mammal!

They call him the ship,

The ship of the desert,

The king of the burning sands!

Ah! The king of the burning sands!

--

Trian groggily opened his eyes, squinting as he tried to avoid the heated stare of the sun. His mouth felt incredibly dry…and sandy. Scrambling to his knees, he spat out the grains of sand that had somehow crept into his mouth as he had slept. Shielding his eyes as he walked through the desert, he could think of only one place that had a desert like this, and that was Morroc. He wasn't sure how long he had been walking, but the intense heat made him wish he could simply melt on the spot. He was starting to envy the drops that were happily bouncing around, completely unaffected by the heat. It took him a few minutes to realise that he was feeling jealous of an orange blob of gelatine, of all things!

"…I must be going mad…" he mumbled, staggering on.

He trekked across the desert, barely paying any attention to where he was going. The end of his staff dragged in the sand, leaving behind a winding trail like the tracks of a slithering snake. He was so focused on _not_ focusing on the heat that he almost didn't notice the subtle 'shift' in the world around him. Sensing the change, Trian stopped abruptly, shielding his eyes to look around. The desert looked the same, yet there was something _different_ about it. He couldn't quite put his finger on it…He wasn't given the time to figure out what exactly was different, though, as the strangest creature he had ever seen lumbered up to catch his attention. It had a grumpy looking face, but seemed to find travelling across the sand easy. Although it seemed fairly heavy in build, it ambled towards Trian with clumsy ease. To his confusion, there were two strange lumps sticking out of the animal's back. As it drew near him, it snorted and veered away, but not before Trian reached out to run his gloved hands over its leathery skin.

"Ho! Don't touch the camel, stranger! She's likely to bite!"

No sooner had Trian whirled to see who was talking to him, he felt a set of slobbery teeth clamp onto his fingers. Using brand of colourful language he had learnt from the backstreets of Morroc, he cursed as he yanked his hand away. Unfortunately, the 'camel' still had his glove in her mouth and was chewing it with relish. More of these strange camels neared him, although these ones either had riders on them or were carrying supplies. The riders wore loose clothing and head wraps. Some also covered their face until he could only see their eyes.

"What are you doing out here?" asked one of the riders, pulling on the camel's reins. "You don't seem to be dressed very practically for life out here. Been having a hard time? Got lost?"

"You could say that," Trian replied, with a wry smile. "I can't say I've seen any of these…camels…before."

The rider laughed. "You're an odd one, stranger. Everyone knows camels are the only way to cross the desert. They're called the 'ships of the desert' for a reason."

"I…see…"

"Would you like a ride to the nearest town? You look dead on your feet."

However, before he could accept the offer, that mysterious world faded away from him. Just faintly, he could hear a woman's voice singing, so softly, so tantalisingly sweet. Trian closed his eyes and simply listened, the words unrecognisable, yet beautiful. He could almost see in his mind's eye a great lotus being coaxed to flower by the woman. He didn't want to leave this place; for the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed and unburdened. Yet…

"_Follow me…"_

She beckoned to him, promising to lead him to a distant land, a land where the heart could be free. A land where he could be unchained and unfettered from his burdens. A land across the sea where he could taste the nectar of joy that he had been denied for years. His chest ached with yearning to discover that paradise. She called again. Trian could almost 'see' her, but her image simply slipped away, as if he was trying to hold mist. He wanted to find out who she was…

"_Follow me…"_

She was there, he knew. Opening his violet eyes, Trian quietly whispered, "Follow me…" his breath a mere wisp of air. There was no choice in his decision. He used his ears and followed.

--

"_Follow me…"_

Tyler felt a slight shiver run down his spine. Clenching his fist that rested on the table he was seated at, he tried to concentrate on the small bumps on the page of the book he was 'reading'. It was one of the few books in Yuno that had been written in Braille, the written language for the blind. However, even his desire to know more could not distract him from the strange feeling he was getting. Frowning, he fumbled for a bookmark before silently closing the book. The sage focused his attention inward, towards the Stream.

There was definitely something strange going on. He was getting odd impulses from the Stream, like something foreign was interfering with it. If the Stream was a sentient being, it would be like something was drawing its attention elsewhere…

Tyler rubbed his forehead in a vain attempt to get rid of the headache that was forming. Almost unwillingly, he detached himself from his contact with the Stream. All sages spent a lot of time 'floating' between the Stream and the physical plane, maintaining a delicate balance between both. However, Tyler knew better than most the signs of exhaustion from floating for extended periods of time. He knew he was starting to feel the strain that was associated with floating in the Stream. What was strange was that he had last come out of floating only a mere three days ago. He should have been able to stay floating with the Stream for at least another week…

_Perhaps others may have noticed the something is wrong…_

He stood up and unsteadily picked his way out of the library, feeling awkward without having Trian there to guide and help him. He was slowly getting used to the layout of the library, though he still had to stick to the walls or the edge of bookshelves. Usually someone would see him and take the time and help him to the door at the very least. Today, though, the library was empty; it was so early in the morning it could be considered night.

Someone hooked their arm under his. "Would you like some help back?" the librarian asked, her voice soft and fluting.

Tyler nodded. "Yes, thank you."

Tyler's journey back to Trian's-cum-his home passed in an instant. He had almost no recollection of it. He only remembered being at the library, then being at home and bidding the librarian goodnight. He couldn't even remember opening the door to the house…

The Stream could wait. He could figure out that mystery later, when he could think properly. Sleep called…

--

…This was no paradise. This was Morroc, the land of cut-throat thieves, assassins and rogues. Morroc was as far from the 'Promised Land' as you could get. That alluring voice was gone, faded away just like he had. He no longer had a corporeal form, his hand simply going through anything he tried to touch. It frustrated him to no end, but not having to walk around walls was an interesting sensation.

"No! It's _MINE_! Give it back!"

Trian turned his head towards the sound of a child's voice. He saw a small boy facing off three larger, older thieves, all of them well into their teens. Although all the thieves were olive skinned like many native Morrocans, the boy was strangely pale. Even with a slight tan, the child was still much, much paler than the teens. One of the teens was dangling something in front of the child's face, although Trian couldn't quite see what it was. Right now, he would have given _anything_ to be able to help the poor, beleaguered child.

"Or else what, kid?" the older boy sneered, leering at the little boy. "You'll go crying to your mama?"

The boy didn't bristle at the insult and fling himself at the thief. Instead, his curiously strange amber eyes seemed to harden as he snarled, "If you don't give it back…I'll kill you all."

There was a long pause before the thieves couldn't contain their laughter any longer. "You? Kill _us_?" one of the teens shrieked, mocking the boy's statement as he held his sides in mirth. "Why, you can't even–" His sentence was abruptly cut off as he suddenly clutched at his stomach, trying to hold in his guts in from a slash to his belly. His companions looked on in shock as a poring came out of nowhere and barrelled into the back of his knees. Falling forward, he never saw the little boy slide a dagger into the little niche at the back of his skull. By the time the teen hit the ground, he was dead.

Regaining use of their limbs at the sight of their friend being killed, the two remaining thieves lunged for the child, shouting, "You'll pay for that!"

Trian could only look on in horror as they fought with the boy and poring. The boy took dangerous risks, but somehow, he managed to avoid fatal injuries. Taking a dive to avoid the thieves' attacks, the boy rolled behind one of the teens. The poring cannoned into the thief's stomach, distracting him to allow the child jump onto his back and stick his dagger into his spine. Jerking violently, the thief flung the boy off his back before he collapsed to the ground with the dagger still in him. The child only winced when he didn't roll out of the way of the dead thief's partner's short sword fast enough. The blade cut through his shirt and grazed his side. Before the thief could retract his sword and swing again, the boy leaped towards him. Caught by surprise, the thief reflexively punched out, sending the boy flying back.

As he rolled to break his fall, the boy pulled his dagger out from the back of the dead thief's corpse. The live one thrust his sword towards the boy again, but rather than dodging the attack completely, the boy moved towards his adversary. The blade seared along the side of the boy's neck, but did not cut anything vital. Before the thief could change the direction of his attack to lop off the child's head, the boy put his head down and cannoned into his stomach. Both thief and boy went down, but the boy had achieved what he had wanted. With a wide grin, the poring quickly swallowed up the sword that lay on the ground and leaped onto the thief's face. When the thief managed to pull the poring off, the last thing he saw was a pair of amber eyes and a dagger descending across his throat.

Trian couldn't help but be amazed and horrified at the fight between the boy and the three thieves. Both poring and child seemed to know exactly what the other needed in the battle. It was like as if they could read each other's mind. Yet, despite being flabbergasted at the boy-poring pair killing the three older thieves, the wizard couldn't help but feel sickened at the way the boy killed them. He did it coldly, as unfeeling as a veteran assassin. His shocked mind kept on repeating over and over in his head, What sort of demon child is this?

When the last thief gave his final gasp of breath, the boy sat down next to him, hanging his head as if he was suddenly wearied by it all. Using his dagger, he pried open the dead thief's hand and held up a simple necklace with the dagger's blade. It was innocuous looking, with its simple leather thong, but what hung from at was a completely different matter. A fang of the crystalline ice dangled on the end of the necklace. It was a wonder it didn't melt under the heat of Morroc. The boy delicately picked it up before clasping it close to his chest. "Why do they always want to take her away from me?" he whispered.

The poring nudged him. "We need to leave," the creature replied, to Trian's surprise. "The Thieves' Guild won't be happy three of its members are dead. One of the members, you know, the little snitch? He was saw everything. We need to leave now."

"_Hello, wanderer."_

The wizard turned to see a seal as the boy, the poring and Morroc faded away. He didn't comment on the fishtail that was sticking out of the creature's mouth, though he stared at it. Seeing that the fishtail was distracting its audience, the seal quickly gulped it down.

"_Those thieves aspired to become assassins, but they were far too careless in what they did. Ah well. The child is a curious boy, is he not?"_ the seal said, shuffling towards Trian. _"NightEyes né Lutie, born about fifteen years from now. Though I use 'now' loosely; time is but a blink of an eye. Both parents died tragically in Lutie. The father died from a combination of a broken heart, a past history of smoking and influenzal pneumonia, most interestingly, leaving his data to gather dust until another found it. Pity he never got to see his hard work bear fruit. Little NightEyes was left in the care of a poring, who took him to Morroc. First became a freelance thief before becoming a freelance rogue and–"_

"…Why are you telling me this?" Trian frowned, folding his arms. He was a little bit disgusted at the creature when it said that the father had an interesting death.

The seal seemed taken aback at his question._ "Oh, not interested? Ah well, never mind then. You've had a glimpse of the image of another world and of someone's future in Rune-Midgard._

_There is much for you to come to grips with. After all, it's the reason why you're here. Why _did_ you follow the voice?"_

Trian blinked in surprise at the sudden question. "She promised something that I'd never experienced before. No responsibilities, no expectations…" A memory flashed in his mind. "When I first abandoned my acolyte training to become a magician, I could feel my parents' disappointment. Even if they accept my choice now, I…I don't know…Just earlier, in the battle with the demi-humans, I felt I could have done so much more if I was a priest, rather than a half acolyte wizard.

All these spells I learnt at Yuno's Magic School, and all the spells I learnt at Geffen's Wizard Academy, they aim at destroying the 'enemy'. But…"

"_You dislike conflict and death, am I not correct?"_

Trian stared at his shaking hands, not really seeing them at all.

"_Do you truly believe that if you had chosen the path of the priest that you would be happy? Remember, what was the reason you left acolyte training?"_

Why did he leave…?

The seal filled in the blanks for him. _"Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? Or what fellowship can light have with darkness?"_

Trian grimaced as a sound like nails scraping down a black board. Looking down, he took a sharp breath at what he saw. The darkness beneath his feet rippled, as if a pebble had been dropped into a pool of water. Then, beginning from the darkness between the seal and Trian, an image spread through the dark, stretching as far as the wizard could see. His purple eyes widened in realisation. This was…!

--

Rosa resisted the urge to find a wall and bang her head repeatedly against it. There was just no getting through to these people! "As I said, it would be better for Trian to be taken to Yuno," she said deliberately slowly.

"However, we believe it would be better if he was to remain here," one of the wizard councillors countered monotonously.

God, did these people have no heart or something? She had already explained time and time again that Trian should be back home with his family and friends. They wanted to keep him here, in Geffen, where there were few buildings that remained completely intact. Were they insane?

"There are many good reasons to move my son to Yuno," a voice suddenly spoke up.

Rosa turned to see a monk leaning casually against the doorframe. It was obvious he had travelled a long way, but he still looked fresh and energetic. As usual, he was wearing his hood over his messy white hair. He watched the wizard council's reaction to his entrance with his dark, almost black eyes. Rosa couldn't help but smile at the sight of the monk, moving towards him to embrace him warmly. "I wasn't expecting you to be here until at least tomorrow, Aleran," she whispered.

He hugged her back, murmuring, "When I heard what happened, nothing could stop me from coming to Geffen as quickly as possible."

One of the councillors coughed irritably, breaking the moment. "Pray, tell us what those reasons are, Lizray."

Aleran gently let go of Rosa. "We came from Yuno. Trian should be back home, where he has the comfort of familiarity, old friends…and family," he replied emphatically. Rosa was about to tell him that no matter how emotional their family's reasons were, the wizard council would refuse to accept them.

"That is not good enough reason–"

"If you want more practical reasons to move Trian to Yuno, I can give you them," the monk interrupted, a flicker of annoyance passing over his usually benign face. "I know you wish to keep my son close to…study him." A ripple of murmurs passed around the wizard council. "I understand that something of this sort is an extremely rare occurrence, and you want to make the most of an opportunity." At this point, he raised his voice slightly. "_However_, I will point out that Geffen is in ruins at the present time, and does not hold the resources and people to facilitate proper, thorough analysis. Also, you do not know if the demi-humans will attack again. From what I have heard, their immortal leaders did not turn up during their attack. They could easily rally another army, and wipe out Geffen if they chose to do so.

"Yuno is to the far north, surrounded by cliff faces and mountains, and is far above the reach of any ground invaders. The city also has its own semi-immortal guardian, Arc Angeling, who protects its borders. Also, to reach Yuno, invaders must pass through Al De Baran. As you should be able to see, Yuno is by far much safer than Geffen at the present time. Do you wish for me to continue?"

The wizard council held a quick, whispered discussion amongst themselves. "We will allow the removal of Trian Lizray to Yuno," one of the wizards haughtily declared. Leaning forward on his table, he continued, "_However_, we expect a copy of all records and all observations made concerning young Trian to be forwarded to us. We will hold you to your word, Lizray. We will know if you don't hold your end of the bargain."

Aleran sketched a bow to the council, letting a tinge of sarcasm edge his voice. "Thank you for your wise decision."

--

Author's Note: Comments and criticism welcome, as usual.


	4. Did you see the Sea?

Author Notes: I had quite a lot of difficulty writing this chapter, mainly because I didn't know where I wanted to go with it. Thus is the problem of writing without any kind of plan in mind. Not to mention I've been busy (playing RO lol). I'll have a cover page complete for DE sometime soon (hopefully). And one day I'll get around to reviewing all the fanfics that I follow…

--

Ragnarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Chapter 4 – Did you see the sea?

--

Voices calling,

Light feet falling.

Into the shining sea,

Please, pray for me.

--

Tyler sighed heavily, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the bed. This situation was far from satisfactory. The more time he spent 'watching' over Trian, the greater his unease grew. He could recall the reason why he was doing this in the first place perfectly, as if he was reading it from a book in Braille.

"_They told us he has fallen into the Stream," Mrs Lizray said, the worry edging her voice so strong he could almost touch it._

_He was shocked. Trian had always had a good grip on the limits of what he could and could not do. Both of them had been taught, no, drilled into their heads, that 'falling' into the Stream would be last stupid thing they would ever live to do. As they explained what had happened in Geffen to him, Tyler realised the Lizrays' were clinging to the non-existent hope that Trian would somehow recover. But he knew better. Trian would never recover; no one who had fallen into the Stream had ever recovered. But…he couldn't bring himself to tell them that…He didn't want to tell _himself_ that…_

"_The Wizard Council allowed us to bring him here, provided all observations would be forwarded to them. We were hoping that you would be able to be the overseer…" she trailed away hopefully._

_He felt a pang in his heart. "I…I may not be able to do so…you know how it is…" He sadly brushed his hands over his unseeing eyes._

"_Perhaps if we assist you in your observations, just on the seeing parts, would that be allowed?" Mr Lizray's voice was slightly strained. To them, what had happened to Trian was like an unknown disease taking hold of him. There was hope there would be a cure…before it was too late. "I have heard that you can feel things more keenly regarding the Stream. Would the Sage Council disregard that fact when the Stream is so deeply involved in this matter?"_

_They were hoping to keep this within…family. Tyler felt the same need also. He would not be able to stand having someone else prod and note down every single thing regarding Trian. Even if he did would be doing the same thing, it would feel so…invasive. "It'd be possible, but the chances aren't remarkably high."_

"_We'll take our chances. What more could we lose?"_

They had been lucky; the Council had agreed. Unfortunately, Tyler could feel the toll the everyday observation was taking on him. He couldn't stand this room anymore. They used to share it, but now he could barely stay by Trian's side longer than ten minutes before he would get a terrible, terrible headache. If he attempted to 'float' in the Stream while he was near his friend, all he felt was a strange, magical presence around him. Soon after, Tyler would have to cease floating because of the weariness that would quickly settle over him. It was as if something was pushing him away. Tyler didn't like it. After all, it _was_ his room as well. But that strange energy continued to emanate from Trian, and Tyler would be forced to exit the room. However, that didn't stop him from coming back as frequently as his throbbing head would allow him to.

Ignoring the feeling of despair washing over him, Tyler sat up and listened to the gabble issuing from his friend's mouth. Like all the other times, it didn't make any sense, but he dutifully noted it down. He could hear Trian tossing and turning fitfully in the bed, which did little to ease his worries. The amount of magical energy that was slowly building around the wizard was starting to become so strong that even the Lizray's could feel it. Still, the presence was not strong enough for ordinary citizens to detect…yet.

Tyler rubbed his temples to ease the ache that was crawling into his head. He would have to find the past records of previous cases of wizards falling into the Stream. This…darkness…that was spreading from Trian didn't feel right at all. He didn't want to douse the Lizrays' hopes, but he didn't want to give them false hope either. What was going to happen to Trian? Would the strange energy eventually consume him? Or would he be in this vegetative state for the rest of his lifespan? He had no idea. A lifespan was an extended amount of time for all the practitioners of magic. He had about a hundred years left in his lifetime, a long hundred years of watching…

--

Trian shut his eyes against the memories of his childhood. But he could see those images behind his eyelids, as if he hadn't shut them at all. There were the two priests, who he overheard saying he was a disappointment to them, considering his strong background. There were the jeers of the other acolytes at his pitiful attempts at their rudimentary spells. Trian had always wondered why those acolytes could heal so much better then he could. Back then, he had believed stronger than anyone else. He helped others as much as possible, he was kind to all, yet…he could hear their spiteful words behind his back. He knew about the way they turned their nose up at the beggars in the Pronteran streets. Yet…

"_It wasn't fair, was it? For you, who tried so hard, to be unable to excel."_

Trian heard himself murmur, "No, it wasn't…"

"_It was…but a test. A test you unfortunately failed."_

Trian took an involuntary step backwards as the 'ground' under the seal rippled and bubbled underneath it. Darkness burst out from underneath the creature, swallowing up the seal in its shadowy embrace. A sharp hissing accompanied the darkness, and it was a long while before a beady red eye opened and glared at him. The eye was lined with veins, and Trian swore he could see tiny little stars in its black pupil. Suddenly he felt something constrict around his chest. Crying out in fear, he scrabbled against the thing, his fingernails digging into the blackness that was wrapped around him. The darkness tightened its grip until he could barely move, until he could barely breathe. Defeated, Trian went limp in the darkness' grip. He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable end…

Something cold and slightly damp flickered across his cheek. Trian's eyes shot open. When he saw how close those bloodshot eyes were to him, he would have screamed in terror if he had any breath to do so. He could vaguely see a shooting star amongst the galaxies in its pupils. A flicker of a black, forked tongue came dangerously close to his face. It was then he realised that the blackness was a snake. A huge serpent with a wide, wide mouth.

Trian's purple eyes widened in shock. The serpent, now that he could see it properly, was vaguely…familiar. Suddenly, he recalled a serpent that was with him when he was younger. It had the same glittering eyes, the same flickering tongue that had beckoned to him. Back then, it was simply there in the background. But now, with him staring at it, face to face, it was distinctly unnerving, although that could be from the fact it was crushing him in its coils…

"_Even though you failed His test, you are well suited for _our_ needs."_

The snake's coils loosened from him, allowing him to breathe again. Trian fell down on all fours, gasping for air. It had never felt so good to have air rushing into his lungs once more. "Why me?" he croaked weakly. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"_That's the thing about one such as you. Caught between the two types of magic…balancing precariously on the point between greys." _A dark line spread across the serpent's face in a wide grin. It flickered its forked tongue, accompanying it with a hiss of anticipation._ "There's such…instability. It has been…some time…since there's been one like you."_

The red light of its eyes momentarily disappeared as it shut its eyes and disappeared from Trian's vision. Then, the curling and fanciful language of the Stream slowly wrote itself in the darkness before Trian's eyes. There were words, sentences, all appearing as if they were being written by an invisible hand. Far too many of them wove in and out of each other for him to read. Suddenly there were voices, hundreds of voices, all whispering to him. Glowing eyes accompanied the voices, eyes that were all watching him expectantly. They all seemed to want something from him. The thought of expectations being placed on him made him feel nauseous. Some of the voices became angry, shouting and yelling indecipherable. The voices grew louder and louder, becoming an unbearable cacophony of sound. Trian clapped his hands over his ears, trying in vain to shut out the sound.

"Please, don't shout," he murmured. "Be quieter…please…"

They continued to shout and scream at him, their voices rolling over each other, rolling over him, crushing him like a wave. It was too loud for him to bear. Why were they shouting at him? What did he do? Why couldn't they just be quiet?

Drawing in a deep breath, Trian screamed at them, "Shut up shut up shut up! Just…shut up! Please!"

A cone of silence suddenly dropped over the area. Before, where there was nothing but noise, there was now no sounds at all, not even his own breathing. One by one, the glowing eyes winked out, until he was alone in the darkness once again. He could feel water flowing past his waist, but all he could see were the words that remained. They floated all around him, some moving slowly, some spinning until they were a blur. He suddenly felt weary of this strange place. He asked himself again the first question he spoke upon entering this strange place.

"Where am I?"

And then, he knew the answer; it was floating right before his eyes. His last memory was of casting that Meteor Shower. And now there was the language of the Stream all around him. He should have known earlier; it was so obvious. There was only one place he could be in, and that was…

"The Stream…"

With a gurgling roar, a wave plunged him beneath the surface, and something was pushing him under the water. He struggled against it, his lungs straining against this second account of abuse. Trian resisted the cries of lungs for air until he no longer could. The black waters bubbled and surged into his open mouth, pushing him down, down, down into the darkness until he felt nothing more…

--

Tyler raised his head off his arms at the sound of knocking. He didn't realise he had fallen asleep at the kitchen bench. His body still felt as if he had been trampled by someone heavy and his mouth felt like something had died in there. The knocking came again. They were sharp raps on the wooden door, quite unfamiliar to him. Curious, he staggered to his feet and opened the door, shivering slightly as the cool winter air blew into the house.

"Good evening," the person said quietly. "Would you be kind enough to let me know if Aleran and Rosa Lizray are here?"

"Who–" he began.

"Ah! Xildali!" Rosa's voice interrupted. "I was wondering when you would come!"

"Aleran, Rosa…"

"We have a lot to talk about," said Mr. Lizray. It was not quite a welcome but it didn't betray any negative emotion either. It was simply a neutral statement. "Do come in."

Tyler stood aside to let the newcomer in. The soft thud of a staff against the ground marked the stranger as a mage of some sort, most likely. "I think perhaps it would not be the best of ideas to stay here for a while," Mr. Lizray murmured in Tyler's ear. "Where there is Xildali, there are…touchy…matters."

Tyler was confused. Mrs. Lizray seemed to be pleased with the newcomer's arrival, yet Mr. Lizray was as unreadable as ever. His voice betrayed no emotion, as if he was talking to a stranger in the streets of Yuno. The newcomer himself sounded ill at ease. There was something more going on and Tyler was curious to know what it was. But he respected whatever reasons Mr. Lizray had for his less than subtle hint and nodded.

"I have some business for the Sage Council I have to attend to," he said. It was true, after all. A chilling wind chose to make its presence known as it blew into the house. Tyler decided a cloak would be a good idea. "I'll be back later. I'm not sure how long it'll take."

He closed the door, hearing a faint, "Is it alright for him to be on his own?" from the newcomer. Bending his head, Tyler ducked around the corner, cautiously running his hands along the wall before him. His fingertips finally brushed against the windowsill. Pausing for a moment, he wondered whether he should be eavesdropping on their private conversation. However, the need to know what was going on was too tempting to be ignored…

--

Author's Note: I'm having ideas revolving around the Somatology Laboratory aka the Lighthalzen Biolab. Delsora will be healing out in developing them. Comments and criticism, as per usual. If my flighty fancy doesn't change, next chapter: Interlude – Beautiful Lie.


	5. Beautiful Lie

Author's Note: Remind me to edit the previous chapter; t'was horrendous. Didn't flow at all. I think, now I know what Trian feels, when he felt like he was a disappointment. The last week has been rather rocky for me, but maybe things will begin to pick up. That said, enjoy this little interlude.

Disclaimer: The little excerpt of Beautiful Lie is by 30 Seconds to Mars and doesn't belong to me in any way or form. Pretty good song though.

--

Ragnarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Interlude – Beautiful Lie

--

It's a beautiful lie,

It's the perfect denial.

Such a beautiful lie,

To believe in.

So beautiful, beautiful…

- Beautiful Lie, 30 Seconds to Mars

--

The silence that settled within the house was almost tangible. Aleran fixed his purple eyed gaze on Xildali. The wizard looked the same as ever. His short, white hair was messier than usual and his similarly purple eyes were brighter with the knowledge he had gathered over the past few years. But his face had lost its calmness he used to carry like a shield, replaced by a visage harrowed with worry. Aleran understood the wizard felt just as strongly as he himself did about the current situation. There were only two people that could make the wizard lose his calmness. Rosa…and Trian…

"How are you two keeping?" Xildali offered hesitantly.

"We're keeping alright, Xil, but, you know…" Rosa glanced meaningfully at the bedroom behind. "Trian hasn't gotten better. In fact…" She trailed off.

"His condition has gotten worse, if anything," Aleran finished for her.

The monk watched the expression on Xildali's face go grave. The wizard bowed his head, hiding his face behind his hands. "I am terribly, terribly sorry about this," he murmured. "None of this would have happened if–"

"Don't say that!" Rosa cut in. "I don't regret our decision at all. Trian gave us some trouble, but all children are bound to disagree with their parents at some point."

Aleran remained silent. His own emotions were mixed on that subject. Was that really true? Did Trian break away from the family's chosen beliefs because it was normal for children to rebel? Or was it because of something else…?

"No, if it wasn't for me, this would not have happened to him at all."

Aleran watched the wizard, whose expression was troubled and anxious. Geffenese and Yunoans were so similar in looks it was difficult for others to tell the difference. Both races had the tendency towards white hair. Both generally had sharp, aristocratic features, coupled with their strange purple eyes. But if you looked carefully, if you forgot that his parents were supposed to be full-blood Yunoans, you could see that Trian had that thinner build that was so characteristically Geffenese…

"He is half of my blood," Xildali said emphatically. He started to choke on his words as he continued, "I do not think he would have become a wizard if Rosa did not ch–"

"Do not blame her for her choice!" Aleran interrupted, his voice going cold. He inwardly cringed when he saw the wizard visibly recoil at his words. He felt like such a hypocrite; not matter how many times he told himself he didn't feel angry at the decision made decades ago, he knew that deep inside, he was. No good would come out of this if he got angry at something that happened so long ago, he knew. He wanted to let go of the past. But it was so difficult to force the past's claws to release its hold on him. Especially when its result was a person that was close to his seemingly indifferent heart.

Softening his voice, Aleran carefully wiped away all traces of ill will from his voice. "No one can be blamed for what is happening now. All that's in the past. Stop antagonising yourself." A little voice chided him, hypocrite, hypocrite.

Silence settled over the room. All that could be heard was the gentle tock of the grandfather clock.

"…Have you two told him?"

Rosa shook her head, wringing her hands.

"If…when he recovers, will you tell him?"

"What reason do we have to tell him?" Aleran replied quietly.

Xildali looked surprised. "I thought you people valued the truth?"

Aleran sighed wearily. He had gone through this with Rosa a long time ago. It took a lot of talking to allow her to see his point of view. "What good would it do? What would telling Trian that I am not his real father achieve? Do you want to be the one to tell him that he has been living a lie for more than forty years? All it will do is attack him emotionally."

"Still, he deserves to know–"

"Trian is an illegitimate child, Xil!" Aleran said heatedly.

"I _know_ that!" the wizard snapped back. "I am reminded of that fact every time I see his face!"

"Both of you, stop it!" Rosa yelled, her expression dark.

The two men fell silent, not meeting each other's eyes. They both knew what happens when Rosa became angry. It was a while before anyone spoke again. "He is not _just_ an illegitimate child, and you know it." Aleran closed his eyes. "What happened was…taboo. If anyone else found out about it…"

"Things will go wrong," Rosa said, folding her hands onto her lap. "The less people know, the less likely this will be leaked. We want this secret to die with us. The moment that happens, everything is rectified. From then on, Trian will be…legal."

Xildali sighed, taking hold of his staff and standing up. "Why must life be so complicated?"

"Only God knows," Aleran replied, holding out a hand to help Rosa up from their seat.

"Do you really believe that?" the wizard whispered.

"I do." Rosa smiled faintly at him, accepting Aleran's hand. "I don't think things happen by 'coincidence'. I feel that this is but a test. All the hardships we endure in life are all things we must conquer in order to become stronger. But although sometimes we may not understand His vision for us, there is a reason for everything that happens."

Xildali looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it. Together they walked to the room where Trian lay in his Stream induced sleep. Aleran was glad to see that today their son was more restful today. But it pained him to see how much Trian's physique had suffered over the months. He was so thin and gaunt now, his bones sticking out from under his skin. His hair splayed around him, their strands' whiteness combined with his sickly pallor making him seem like a ghostly wraith.

Xildali bowed his head, his hands shaking as he gripped his staff. He held it so tightly his knuckles bleached. "This is more terrible than I thought…" he murmured, leaning heavily on his staff. "This feeling…do you not feel it?"

Rosa arched an eyebrow. "Feel what? I only feel a little tired…"

Xildali waved an arm at the room in frustration, trying to convey something they didn't understand. "_This!_" he breathed. "And you say the sage has been here, recording everything, for _months_? The poor man! I have renewed respect for your adopted son. I cannot stay here for much longer, this feeling is…terrible…it feels as if something is telling me to despair and die…"

Making a pained face, the wizard quickly exited the room, having one last glance at Trian over his shoulder. Rosa immediately followed, but Aleran lingered in the room for a little longer. There was so much he didn't understand…

Just as he was about to leave, Aleran spotted a shadow near the windowsill. Frowning, he stared at it for a little longer before it moved away. He was sure their small family was not a target of assassins. Besides, no assassin would reveal themselves so obviously. Only someone who didn't realise they cast a shadow at all…

Xildali excused himself, saying it was late. Aleran and Rosa followed him outside to bid him farewell. But it was obvious he still had something left to say.

"Aleran, Rosa," Xildali began hesitantly. He saw the carefully neutral expression on Aleran's face and seemed to gain strength from it. The wizard drew himself up straighter. "When I taught him in Geffen, he still _believes_. Trian may be a wizard, but he still feels there is a higher being out there. You two have done well raising him. Never forget that." He paused, before continuing, "Rosa, may I speak to Aleran alone?"

She nodded, smiling, her eyes glassy from her unshed tears. "Go ahead, Xil. We'll see you again soon?"

The wizard gave his assent, a vague expression spreading over his face. Rosa withdrew to inside the house, probably to Trian's side once more. Aleran watched her worriedly. He knew that the more time she spent by Trian's bedside, the more his deteriorating condition hurt her. The fact their son was dying before their eyes was a terrible test of their love, their hopes and their faith. Every night he prayed for their little family, that they would find the strength to pull through this ordeal. At the moment, that's all he wished for…

Xildali looked Aleran in the eyes, his purple eyes showing the monk nothing but deepest sincerity. "Look Aleran, please, forgive me for taking the place with Rosa that should be yours. But even if you tell him the truth, Trian will always think of you as his father. I can never take that place; I do not know him nearly as well as you do. You are the one that has taken care of him over the years, not me." He sighed, leaning on his staff with a wistful smile. "I feel envious of you. You are so fortunate in so many ways…"

Any ill will the monk had harboured towards the wizard melted away at the wizard's earnest words. Touched, Aleran smiled genuinely and held out his hand. "I'm sorry things turned out this way for you, Xil," he said softly.

The wizard accepted his hand with a small smile and shook it. "I, however, am not. Although I regret the pain I have caused, I am honestly glad to see you two are happy together. And if both of you are happy, I am happy also." They let go. "I'll see you two again some time. Say goodbye to Rosa for me."

Aleran watched Xildali walk away. He would have offered to take the wizard back to Geffen, but he could feel that Xildali did not want to intrude on them any further. Sensing someone draw nearer, he smiled wryly when he realised who it was.

"How much did you hear?" he asked Tyler.

The sage had the grace to look embarrassed. "I heard everything."

Aleran sighed, watching the sun set in a blaze of fire. Its lingering golden tendrils lightly touched Yuno one last time before they finally faded beneath the horizon. "Tell me, what do you think about our decisions, then? Be honest. I'd like to know."

There was a pause as Tyler lingered over his reply. "It's not my place to judge what you've done. There are things I don't know and I don't understand. Like how you seem to accept that Trian is the result of Xildali stealing away with Mrs. Lizray without much anger…"

"Wha–?" There were few things that took him by surprise, and that was one of them. Aleran didn't realise that their past could be interpreted that way. He should have realised. People _did _tend to assume the worst. Aleran laughed loudly, clutching his sides in mirth. It had been a long time since he had laughed this hard. "Tyler," he began, when he had calmed down. "He didn't do anything like that. Xil is a friend of mine from a long time ago. There _was_ no affair."

If there was, he wouldn't know what he would've done. Ever since Trian, his actions towards the wizard had been less friendly. They had been so much happier before, when they were young and didn't care what the world thought. He needed to forget about the past and apologise to Xildali. The wizard himself had already forgiven him for being the person he wanted to be…He needed to do the same…

The blind sage frowned at his words. "Then…?"

Aleran smiled, before he turned his eyes to the sky. He watched the inky blackness slowly light up as its stars awoke from their sleep. The stars saw everything that ever happened. All three of them had changed so much over the decades. He remembered the times long ago, where they all cared little for rules or the lines that separated the mages from the acolytes. They were young and free, and life was uncomplicated. Enjoying life, living it to the full, where past yesterdays became fond memories to laugh at some other time. Back then, the half empty glass would always be filled to the brim. But then they grew up.

"Maybe one day you'll figure it out."

--

Author's Note: I feel I didn't capture the atmosphere between the three quite like I imagined. Character personalities have changed a little since the beginning when I first started writing Deadly Enchantment.


	6. All that Glitters

Author's Note: Second last chapter, one more to go. Enjoy this slightly-longer-than-usual chapter.

--

Ragnarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Chapter 5 – All that Glitters

--

All that glitters,

Is not gold.

All that shines,

Is not light.

All that darkens,

Is not shadow.

--

Trian coughed up water, thick, black and murky. Rolling over onto his hands and feet, he heaved, feeling like he was coughing his lungs out of his chest. The water splashed against his hands, staining them black. It clung to his hair, the deep ebony a stark contrast to his own white strands. Dizziness washed over him as his body demanded air that was not getting into his lungs. His arms unable to support him anymore, Trian collapsed onto the ground, his breathing shallow and uneven. It was a long while before his hand before his face came into focus. He groaned as he pushed himself off the ground, his untied hair falling across his face.

"Ugh…"

He opened his eyes properly for the first time. All around him was the clear blue sky and forests that stretched as far as he could see. The fact that he was at least a few hundred feet in the air wouldn't have troubled him (after all, he came from a floating city) if there had been something visible under his feet. As far as he could tell, there was nothing under the splashes of black water staining the invisible ground. Shining brightly through fluffy white clouds, the sunlight reflected off _something_ that was surrounding him. Cautiously, Trian reached out in front of him. His hands met an invisible barrier, and after more investigation, he realised he was in some kind of clear sphere.

Suddenly, the sky turned an angry red. Trian watched in horrified awe as the ground split open, swallowing up the entire forest. The sky became a maelstrom of fire. Meteorites rained down on the earth, destroying everything they touched. Trees fuelled great infernos, engulfing every living thing in their whirling flames. Trian knew this was not a natural disaster. He could _feel_ the magic that permeated the air. No, this was the result of a wizard spell. But he had never seen a spell this powerful. Cities were relentlessly pummelled by the unnaturally powerful magic until they crumbled under the assault. He could almost hear the screams of families as they ran for cover. He could almost see people scattering for cover, even though it was obvious it would not protect them. He was immediately reminded of his own weaker version of that spell, although it was the attackers of Geffen screaming…

When everything died down, when the land was no longer attacked by the sky, where there had been tranquillity, all that was left were blackened remains. The earth had been horrendously scarred, deep, yawning gorges where there had been woodland. To the south, an empty plain lay where there had once been a vast tropical jungle. The sky remained an angry red before it finally relented, pouring forth its healing waters over the land. But even then, Trian could see that the water would not be able to wash away the land's wounds. There had been too much damage, far too much. As the rain fell, the landscape became more recognisable to his eyes. Those huge ravines to the east would later become a wide waterway that flowed around Geffen. To the north, those steep cliff faces would become part of the El Mes Plateau near Yuno. As his eyes glanced over the land, Trian realised he had been watching a piece of history. _This_ was the reason why Morroc had become a desert wasteland. He could see that the forests of Payon were unscathed. However, he remembered that Payon had not been a rich city in the past, and did not involve itself in political affairs. There was one other city within his sight that was unmarked by the carnage. It looked a bit like the current Prontera, only not as large, and it didn't have the huge walls that were so characteristic of the fort city. This must have been the beginning of Prontera's rise to power…

Before he knew what was happening, that clear globe he was within whisked him away into to a grand bathroom with pristine white walls. In the centre was a huge, ornate bath. It took him a few moments to realise there was a woman bathing in it. Flushing in embarrassment, he turned away. But his eyes were drawn back to her. Her smooth, white skin was as flawless as polished porcelain, her round eyes and silky hair adding to her doll-like appearance. She had the appearance of a petite Yuno born, but her purple eyes were more vivid than anyone else he had ever seen. Except for, perhaps, that little boy in 'Morroc'. However, as his eyes drank in her beauty, Trian realised something was very, very wrong.

He brought his hand up to his mouth in horror. The bath was not filled with water, but with blood. Red, dark and foreboding. He felt nauseous, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the grisly sight. As he stared at it, a skull floated to the surface. The woman scooped up the skull and held it close to her face. "Why, soon, there will be a lot more of you," she crooned, her small hands lightly touching its smooth dome. "You'll have plenty of friends to keep you company." She laughed madly, as if she had made a hilarious joke.

There was a soft tapping on the door. The woman happily hummed a tune before standing up, the droplets of blood running down her back like streams of blackened silver. She merely wrapped a silky robe around her body, the thin material clinging to her shapely body. With a casual flick of her wrist, the door slowly opened, revealing a tall, well dressed man.

The man bowed reverently. "The cities of Rune-Midgard have all surrendered in face of your great power, m'lady. Until now, they did not truly understand the wrath of a high wizard."

She grinned, sauntering over to the man. Trian would have been apprehensive of having someone who so openly flaunted her power approaching him. But the man stood his ground, even returning her smile. Trian, on the other hand, found the smile on her doll-like face unnerving. There was something predatory, something disturbingly…chaotic in her eyes. He shivered, having the sudden wild urge to run away from this place. The female high wizard was powerful and knew it. The earth rending display earlier was more than enough to prove that. Despite the fact it was obvious she couldn't see him, Trian could almost see what would happen if she suddenly could. He nervously backed away as she approached the newcomer, drawing closer to Trian at the same time. But, despite his worst fears, she did not notice him at all.

Bringing her hands to his face, her fingers ran along the line of his jaw before she kissed the newcomer passionately. The man leaned in to accept her show of affection, his hands encircling her waist. "There's no need to be so formal," she whispered, her voice low and husky. He smiled wanly as her long, thin fingers traced an invisible line down his neck. "I've told you hundreds of times, just call me Kathryne."

"_Kathryne Keyron…the bringer of Ragnarok…"_

Everything around Trian cracked and shattered like glass into a thousand pieces, returning him to the darkness again. Falling to the floor in shards finer than sand, they crunched under his shoes as he took a cautious step forward in the darkness. He couldn't think through the pounding in his head. Was the bringer of Ragnarok really a wizard, no, a high wizard? He wished he had paid more attention to his mentor's words; there was something in the back of his mind yelling at him to be heard. Something important, he knew. Something that told him he should be afraid of what was happening, very afraid…

Off into the distance, he could hear quiet murmurings and the flutter of wings. Unable to see anything in the darkness, he cautiously called out.

"Hello? Is anyone there…?"

Light hearted laughter floated towards him as the voices slowly faded away, as if their owners were happily skipping away. As he squinted into the darkness, Trian thought he could pick out a faint blue flame in the distance. Curious, he moved towards it. They seemed to form an unseen path, leading to who knows where. Having no other choice, he walked on that path, his eyes always watching for…something…anything that would help him to escape from the Stream…

--

Trian's condition was worsening. The darkness remained, but it no longer pushed Tyler away, allowing him to stay in the room for longer hours. However, Trian's magical aura had almost completely faded away. Tyler unhappily leaned against the bed. Mr and Mrs Lizray had informed him that Trian was also dwindling away physically. To Tyler, there was only the slowest of heartbeats and the barest flicker of auras that was telling him Trian was still alive. The wizard didn't talk in his sleep anymore, but neither did he toss and turn like he used to. Even zombies showed more signs of life than Trian did. It was almost as if the darkness was mocking him, allowing Tyler to 'see' Trian in his worst, when the darkness knew it had won.

Tyler gently closed his hands over Trian's limp, skeletal one. It wouldn't be long now, until Trian finally passed over. He wasn't sure if he believed in life after death, but he hoped that if there was, Trian would have a better lot that the one he had in life here. The forties was a terribly young age to die for a mage; it was about the same as dying in the twenties for non-mages. It was the age where you could begin to carve your way through the world around you. There were so many things Trian could have done with his life. There were so many things they didn't have the chance to experience yet. There were so many days he wouldn't be able to cherish. It was such a waste…

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts it took Tyler a while to realise that Trian's nails was digging into his flesh as the wizard gripped his hands as tightly as he could.

"No…death…" Tyler heard him whisper, the faintest breath of sound in the silent room.

Tyler felt his throat close up. Was it determination to live, or was it just the last babblings of someone whose mind had long gone? Tyler gave a wry smile, gently prying Trian's fingers off his hands before he folded them closed. Trian was going to be gone soon. There wouldn't be anyone to shake awake in the mornings anymore. There wouldn't be anyone to bring him around Rune-Midgard and tell him with startlingly vivid descriptions of the scenery around them anymore. There wouldn't be a Trian anymore. Suddenly choking, he covered his mouth to dampen the sound. He didn't want the Lizrays hear or see him. Not like this. Not when he was on the verge of breaking down.

He was supposed to understand death, supposed to be able to accept it as part of life. All sages understood more of the way in which the world worked, allowing them to see that death was unchangeable. Because life was unpredictable, when their time came, it was the time they were meant to leave. Tyler _knew_ that, but he was finding it difficult to accept, now that someone close to him was at Death's door. Did sages really understand more? Or was it just another lie, and were living as unknowing as everyone else, but pretending they could see farther? Tyler felt that since these past few months, there was so much he didn't understand, so much he couldn't come to grips with, so much he didn't want to accept.

He was never one for praying, but right now, he was praying for something, a miracle, _anything_. Tyler held Trian's cold hands in his own warm ones. Every moment that passed, every wisp of breath, every flicker of a weakening pulse seemed to be Trian's last. But the wizard still stubbornly held onto life.

Tyler's hands shook as he held onto Trian's thin, wasted hands. Tears slipped past his guard and soaked into the bed-sheets. "Don't let him suffer any more…"

--

A huge book lay open upon a pedestal, a ray of light dancing over its yellowed pages. Trian recognised it immediately. After all, it was Yuno's most precious artefact. The Book of Ymir, believed to have been created by the gods themselves, could not be moved from its pedestal in the castle it was stored within. No one had ever managed to decipher the mysterious words upon its pages, for some magic surrounded it making its words unreadable. That same magic had also allowed it to stay intact despite the centuries that had passed since its discovery. As he watched, the pages of the Book began to slowly turn. Cautiously, Trian approached the Book. As his fingers touched its ancient pages, the world around him disappeared in a flash of light.

When Trian opened his eyes again, he found himself standing on a stone platform, with the sky lazily swirling beneath him. The Book was still in front of him, its pages now flipping, blown by an unfelt wind. Behind it, an armoured woman carrying a golden ceremonial trident turned her head towards him. Her armour gleamed golden silver in the light. Two pairs of great feathered wings leisurely flapped behind her while her long hair floated around her, giving her a golden halo around her face. Laurels crowned her head, but her eyes were her most striking feature. They were not of the same colour, one a sparkling sapphire, the other an emerald green. Those eyes marked her as one of the beautiful yet dangerous warrior angels, the fabled valkyries. But as her mismatched eyes stared at him, hardly a flicker of emotion passed across her visage, her face as still as the newly dead. Slowly, she raised her trident.

She spoke in a tongue Trian didn't understand. To him, whatever she was saying was simply senseless gabble. Until finally, "Trian of Yuno, City of Wisdom, hailing from the land of Rune-Midgard. Few have tread the path you now walk, and fewer still have had the honour you are about to receive. You have been deemed worthy to be reborn again, and by the grace of the gods, you shall return to Rune-Midgard as a high wizard!"

"Wait!" Trian cried out in alarm as she swung her trident down. A high wizard? Like Kathryn Keyron? "What are you talking about? I don't want–!"

Lightning arced from where the trident prongs connected with the grey stone, great cracks forming in the platform. Instinctively, Trian shielded his face with his arms, fearing the electricity would strike him. The paving beneath his feet crumbled away, dropping him into the empty sky below. In the blink of an eye, an angel with three pairs of glowing white wings appeared before him. Smiling, she whispered words Trian could not hear. He stared at her, uncomprehending.

She laughed without any sound, reaching out to hold his face with her soft hands. He tried to say something, but she silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips. Her smile was serene, of absolute happiness, absolute joy. It left a strange ache in his heart, a strange envy over something he felt he could not achieve. But he couldn't bring himself to dislike someone so at peace with herself. It just wouldn't be right…

Still smiling, the angel gently wiped away his tears and spoke to him. Her voice was warm like the summer sun, flowing through him before it slowly settled as a contented feeling in his stomach. Something about her made him feel that the world was still beautiful, despite its flaws. Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his.

"Good luck," she bade him, fading away.

As if in a dream, Trian brought his hand to his face. He could still feel her lingering touch along the side of his jaw. And all too suddenly, blackness returned and he hit the water. Panicking, Trian thrashed about in its murky depths. Breaking the surface, he cried out in fear as black shadows tried to drag him back down into the darkness of the river. The shadows were clinging to his arms, to his legs. He fought down his terror as it rose with the river's water level. Soon, the shadows would not have to drag him down into the water if it overwhelmed him. All around him, the glowing letters of the Stream hung in the darkness. They watched, their presence mocking him and his struggle to escape.

Clawing at the shadows gripping him, thrashing violently to somehow loosen their grip, he tried everything he could think of to make them let go. Trian tried in vain to reach for that faintly shimmering light so far above him. He wished furiously that he would be able to escape from this place. And miraculously, his wish was granted. Suddenly, the shadows let go of him. Hope fluttering in his chest, he tried again to reach that light. He was so close! Nearly…there…

But as his hand came nearer to that light, he didn't see the shadows reform into a dark snake. Hissing furiously, it spat, _"Don't forget, boy! You belong to _us_!"_

The serpent wound itself around his left leg, hissing viciously. Just as Trian's hand closed around the light, the snake sunk its fangs deep into his leg…

--

Rosa came running the moment she heard the scream of agony rip through quiet Yuno. Her stomach churned in fear as she recognised her son's cry. In the time that had passed since the assault on Geffen, he never seemed to have nightmares of any kind. Although his 'sleep' could only be described as fitful at best, Trian never seemed to be in pain. That agonised cry could only be an ill omen…

She burst into the room, Aleran and Tyler following close on her heels. She skidded to a halt in horror as they saw their son sitting up and clutching his side, where something black and pulsating seemed to be attacking him. Thick, black and horribly misshapen, it clung to his left leg, slowly crawling its way up his body with long, thin tendrils of darkness. Almost immediately, she put her hands together in prayer, a prayer she had often used to purge darkness and evil. _"O glorious God, please grant me strength to wield your light to cleanse my son of this darkness that does not belong–"_

An angel appeared before her, glowing faintly with a white aura. Rosa's eyes widened in surprise. It was a rare vision, seeing the angel known as Gloria. It was written that Gloria had once been a mortal woman who had endured innumerable hardships. But she bore her hardships with grace, without anger, with a pure heart. She had given so much to the world when the world had given her nothing at all. When she died, God descended upon her and immortalised her forever, becoming the revered angel known as Gloria. Smiling warmly, the angel lay her hands onto Trian's shoulders and looked up at Rosa. Whispering something Rosa could not hear, Gloria unfolded her white wings. All three pairs of her wings encompassed them all in her divine embrace before fading away, leaving Rosa with nothing but the memory of that serene smile.

"– _Lend me the holy light of your Magnus Exorcismus!"_

Fleeting images of three angels appeared before them, circling over Trian. Two of the angels raised their swords, the third raising her trident. In a brilliant flash of light, they disappeared and a huge cross began to glow under Trian. Trian cried out as the holy energy struck him violently, pushing him back down onto the bed. But it seemed to have little effect on the darkness. It shifted its shape, becoming a serpent with a gaping maw. She began to pray again, but Trian gasped out, "No! Don't…Magnus…"

She watched in horrified awe as the serpent grinned at her before slowly sinking back down into the darkness whence it came. Slowly, the blackness stopped pulsating, leaving behind only shadow clinging to their son's left leg. Not believing her eyes, she watched her son struggle to sit up, seeing his purple irises for the first time in many long months. Finally giving in, Rosa cried tears of joy, rushing to her son's side, hugging him tightly in her arms. She felt Aleran and Tyler join with her, their happiness and amazement as evident as her own. She felt Trian's thin, wasted arms wrap around her, hugging her back. His wet tears slid down his face and soaked into her shirt. The family was complete once more.

"You're back…After so many months of hoping and praying…you're back…"

--

Author's Note: I was actually going to let Trian read the Book, but then the last time I rebirthed was ages ago, and I couldn't remember the Book's words Dx And I'm not feeling creative enough to put some message and stuff, so I totally skipped it xD Another time, perhaps.

One more chapter before the end. Comments and criticism appretiated.


	7. Epilogue

Author's Note: Last chapter. Enjoy!

--

Ragnarok Online

Deadly Enchantment

Epilogue

--

Keep going, just keep running.

There ain't no endgame.

Not yet, not now,

There are still things to do.

Just keep going, keep on running.

It's not over, not yet, not now.

--

Trian shivered as he sat hunched over a book in Yuno's large, expansive library. It was the dead of the night, where even the librarians had left for home. He had not been able to sleep at all, a terrible thought worrying at his consciousness. Ever since he had 'escaped' from the Stream, he had been on the long, slow road to recovery. Immediately after he had 'awoken', it had taken several weeks to get his wasted body to accept food. It had taken a significant amount of effort to keep everything he ate down.

It took even longer for him to regain strength in his diminished limbs. Walking again had been a task that had taken painstakingly long. The darkness that clung to his left leg refused to go away, despite every healing spell and every purification rite his parents could think of. Trian could almost feel the thing eating away at him, slowly devouring the flesh beneath. He swore its creeping tendrils of darkness crawled just a little further up his body every day. Because of the darkness that clung to him, he had difficulty bending his leg, giving him a noticeable limp. His precious dragon-headed staff was being used more like a walking stick than something to channel his energy.

The valkyrie had called him a high wizard, a title reserved for only the most powerful of wizards. But Trian also recalled that the high wizard that he saw in his time in the Stream, Kathryne Keyron, caused mass destruction all over Rune-Midgard. Her power had been terrible, he _saw _that. But what about all the other past high wizards? Had they all been as crazy as she had been?

…He shouldn't have come here. He would have been better off not knowing. Phrases and sentences jumped up at him from the thick tomes he had gone through. _Went insane…jumped off the tower screaming about serpents…destroyed a town before committing suicide…a note found written in blood saying "That damn snake!"…found screaming about snakes before consuming himself in a ball of fire…engulfed Rune-Midgard in an iron-fisted rule…the High Wizard Kathryne Keyron, bringer of Ragnarok…_

Trian buried his face in his hands. What had he done to deserve this? This was everything he never wanted. He had been granted the gift of power, but he wanted none of it. Now he remembered the words of warning from his mentor. They were the very first thing the wizard had said, even before they had introduced themselves.

"_The strength in magic does not come from using it when you can, but _not_ using when you know you can. Magic gives the wielder a sense of power, of superiority over others. Why should a mage listen to a mere commoner's insults when they could easily turn the impudent fool into a toad? But by doing so, the mage is giving into their sense of superiority, giving into their sense of power. Giving into these desires is the first sign of a mage going to the bad. They will begin to give in more and more often. And when that happens, there's no going back._

_Be careful. The reason why so many high wizards have turned bad, no matter how good they had been before, is because power is intoxicating. Once you have power, you realise that it might just be possible to possess the world…"_

Some of those high wizards he had read about were better than him, but they, too, fell into the Stream's powerful lure. Trian let a miserable smile pass over his face. It seemed almost inevitable that he would spiral into insanity like the others. The easiest solution would be to end all this before anything happened, before he did something he would regret for the rest of his life. But he just couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to all the people he knew, to say goodbye to the life he enjoyed prior to the Geffen invasion, to say goodbye to his family…

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he glanced up at the oil lamp he had left burning on the table. It spluttered weakly; it was about to give out any moment. The dying light seemed to flicker ominously, casting shadows over the book he held in his hands. An icy hand closed around his heart. Getting to his feet, he closed the book and reached out for his staff. He let out a scream of terror when he saw his dragon headed staff become the grinning face of the Stream's serpent. Dropping it to the floor with a loud clatter, he looked up into the mirror hung against the wall. The lamp light flickered, causing the shadows reflected in it to dance. And deep within the darkened mirror, he thought he could see a serpentine shape rise and twist in the darkness…

Crying out with a mixture of rage and fear, he seized the book beside him and hurled it at the mirror. With a terrible crash, it shattered, its glassy shards falling to the floor. But now he could see the serpent reflected in every one of them, grinning eerily up at him.

"No!" he screamed at that mocking face. "I won't become like the other poor bastards you drove mad! You can just take your shadowy ass back to hell!"

The snake simply grinned infuriatingly at him. Unable to bear the stare of those bloodshot eyes, Trian fled from the library.

"_You can run all you want, but one day you'll come back to me…"_

--

Author's Note: It's done! Finally! (faints) The first complete story I've ever written! (feels so proud xD) Now to go back to working on _Things Unforgotten_…Comments and criticism welcome, as always.


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